


like starlight

by luca



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Demons, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luca/pseuds/luca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho is visited by a demon who is too pretty, too kind, yet deadly all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like starlight

**Author's Note:**

> ayyyyyyy i wrote this without a plan cause i was lazy and just wanted to try a different approach so feel free to ask any questions if u don’t understand it.

He is so pretty, Minho thinks immediately. Fair skinned and wide eyed and Minho thinks he is breathtaking. The fear settles in almost as an afterthought, lingering somewhere at the bottom of his stomach but it is beauty that consumes him. He has to remind himself that this is a demon, sharp clawed and armed, that he could, perhaps, die any minute – but Minho has never been very alive to begin with and he gazes back at it curiously.

“Oh.” It breathes out, moving closer towards Minho. If this demon had been crueller, Minho might have thought of him as predator stalking prey. But he is baby-faced and doe-eyed and Minho doesn’t move back even an inch. “You’re not scared of me?” 

Minho shakes his head. “Not at all.” This demon, he thinks, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Minho standing, still breathing, is testament to this. 

The demon seems surprised. He blinks up at Minho once, twice and then breaks into a blinding smile. Minho melts almost instantly. “Good.” It says, bending down to pick up the groceries Minho had spilled just before. When he pushes the plastic bag into Minho’s hands, his hands are almost warm. “I won’t hurt you in that way.” 

Minho waits for it to do any more but it doesn’t. It only stares at him expectantly and Minho shuffles back and forth on the balls of his feet under its gaze. “Right, right.” He mumbles. His hands are sweaty and he rubs them on his jeans, grips his bag half full of cans and bottled water. “I’ll – I’ll be going now.” He announces but it doesn’t move at all, doesn’t go away so Minho does instead. Hesitantly, he turns around and shuffles along the road to a little building in the slums of Seoul’s ruins. He can feel the demon watch him, feel the pricks light up his skin like fire but Minho tells himself he could crush it if he truly wanted to and makes his way inside with his head held high.

  
  


Its name is Jinwoo. Minho finds this out a couple mornings after when he wakes up to a smiling face peering down at him.

“Shit!” Minho swears, leaping up like a spring. His heart beats furiously in his chest and he presses himself up into the corner of the bed where it meets a peeling wall. He’s not scared, he tells himself. Just surprised. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Your window was open.” It says calmly and Minho would be angry if he didn’t already know that demons have no boundaries. They think they own everything and everyone. Typical. “I’m – I’m Jinwoo.” A hand extends to him in a mimic of human courtesy but Minho doesn’t take it.

“Why are you here?” He asks instead and watches as the demon fumbles nervously. How funny, Minho thinks. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think he was the monster here. 

“I thought – well, since you weren’t afraid of me, I thought maybe we could…” It pauses as if its words have fallen from his mouth and spilt along the floor.

“What?” Minho prompts.

A breath – in once, out once. “Friends.” It finally says and Minho burst out into a cruel, patronizing laugh. 

“Friends?” He spits condescendingly, watching the demon shrink at his words. “We can’t be friends.”

“Why not?” It asks curiously but its gaze never meets Minho and it fidgets on the spot like a butterfly behind glass.

“I’m human, you’re not.” Demons can’t be friends with humans. It is law, both in this world in the other. And who would want to be friends with a demon who is born from cruelty and cultivated on the flesh and bones of others?

It hums, quiet and almost melodic. “Human.” It says, contemplating, turning the word over and over on its tongue. “You’re human, but for how long?” It asks staring straight at Minho’s chest and Minho goes cold because it knows and of course, _it knows_. The mark is written on him like ink. 

“Get out.” Minho fires back with a snarl and it flinches back almost violently. “Get. Out.” And Minho has to tell himself that he is not the demon here, that the haggard, animalistic voice is his and that it is normal. He is _still normal_.

“I’m sorry.” It says looking regretful. It confuses Minho, how strange this demon is, how seemingly human it can be but before he can think on it long, it scurries away with hurried steps, out the window and into the putrid air. Minho closes the window with a crack right after and rests his head against the cool of the glass. His heart still beats in his chest to a sporadic rhythm but that part of him hasn’t been truly his own since long ago. 

Minho writes human in one palm, monster in the other and swallows them both.

  
  


There are only a couple left in Seoul. It is demon territory now but he stays there all the same. It is perfect and it is here, far away, where he can be sure he won’t hurt anyone else. A couple guards eye him time to time but they leave him be once they see the mark of the fallen star engraved onto his eye, gleaming under moonlight. He is half a monster even demons fear, half a memory of the boy he used to be. This is solitude and he is safe. 

So he notices it immediately when a shadow follows him as he walks down a deserted street. 

“What do you want?” He demands, pausing on a corner beneath a flickering lamp post. When it reveals itself, glowing beneath starlight, Minho feels his heart stutter in his chest just like the first time.

“I just – I wanted to apologize.” It mumbles and has the decency to look ashamed. A demon disguised under a pretty veil and Minho never takes his eyes off it. When it moves closer to him, Minho notices its uneven steps, the in-born grace of every demon that has alluded him. “I shouldn’t have – I don’t know. I just – you seemed lonely. I’m lonely too.” It looks up at Minho under dark lashes, eyes wide and searching and Minho sees himself. 

“You’re not scared of me?” He asks because he is a creature to be feared. But the demon shakes his head and smiles gently. Like this, he almost looks human. 

“No. And you’re not scared of me.”

“I don’t have a reason to fear demons.” Minho scoffs. It is half a lie, half the truth. For now, only half-formed, Minho is still vulnerable but he flashes his scarred eye and holds his head high and the lower ranking demons are none the wiser. “Don’t you have your own friends?” He asks and watches fascinatingly at the way its cheeks pink.

“Ah. I’m a bit different.” It says, scratching the back of his head and though it doesn’t say more, Minho knows. This is a demon born from a different branch, sown from different flesh. Kind and lonely and the closest replica they have to man. “Jinwoo.” It says, stretching out a shaky hand once more. It looks unsure, its mouth a tight-lipped line but fire burns in its eyes and Minho can’t help but smile. 

“Minho.” He says and it is warm when he slips his hand into Jinwoo’s.

  
  


Minho craves company. He was born a people person. So it’s no wonder that the solitude destroys him, turns him hollow inside and out until all that’s left is a man waiting to be forgotten. Perhaps that’s why he falls so easily when Jinwoo comes into his life, intrusive and happy and warm. His kindness, when he shows up to Minho’s door day after day full of determination, could kill someone one day. But Minho lets him in and it is nice to finally have another person around and though Jinwoo is mostly quiet and a little airheaded, he listens well and Minho hasn’t talked to someone in years. 

“You’re funny.” Jinwoo would say when Minho makes a joke. Jinwoo laughs at all his jokes, as cheesy as they may be and Minho feels proud – god, he feels proud and how long has it been since he has felt anything more than loneliness and the black hole that beats empty in his chest?

(It also helps, though he won’t admit it, that Jinwoo is sweet and beautiful and that Minho is drawn to sweet and beautiful people.)

  
  


Jinwoo’s hands are gentle when they cup Minho’s face. Above him, Jinwoo looks completely ethereal, like an angel coming to take his soul and he would give it away willingly to stay like this a little longer. The flickering light haloes around him and Minho feels himself sinking, sinking, sinking and he is a drowned man who desires nothing but to be submerged in all of this. When Minho reaches up to pull him down for a kiss, Jinwoo stops him and presses his lips to the corner of his eye instead. The bed below them creaks and Minho runs a hand along Jinwoo’s side, the other gripping tightly at his waist. 

“C’mon. Please.” Minho sighs and oh, when did he become like this? A pathetic, begging man lured by a demon who can’t and who doesn’t want to escape. But Jinwoo doesn’t move any closer. He stares into Minho’s left eye, into that mark and Minho lets him.

“You swallowed a star.” Jinwoo says, stating the obvious. Minho laughs, throwing his head back against the sheets, because of course he did, doesn’t everyone know? 

“Yeah.” He murmurs and closes his eyes when Jinwoo leans down to kiss him again, his lips lingering and grazing his skin. It burns him like fire and he craves it all the more.

“What did you wish for?” He whispers and his voice is low and enticing, like a siren pulling Minho in.

Minho tries to shake it off but a part of him is stuck on Jinwoo and he fails miserably, almost mewls when the body above him moves down lower to drag his mouth along the line of his throat. “Does it matter?” He says shakily and feels Jinwoo’s hair dance along his skin when he shakes his head. 

“No.” He presses into his skin and when Jinwoo buries his hand in Minho’s hair, his grip is harsher than before, pulling and relentless. Achingly slow, he trails a wet tongue down to Minho’s chest, the chill electrifying. Minho gasps and grips him tighter until they are pressed up completely against each other. His dick throbs in his pants and he guides Jinwoo’s hand there.

“Shit.” Minho groans out when a hand slips inside, slim fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. Jinwoo squeezes once then slowly starts up a slow, aching rhythm that makes Minho want to _scream_. “Faster.” Minho begs, rutting into his hand but Jinwoo keeps his pace and presses wet kisses against tan skin. Pre-cum drips from Minho’s cock and he shivers when Jinwoo gathers it up, pumping a little faster.

“Was it worth it?” Jinwoo murmurs, swirling his thumb around the head. He sounds dangerous and Minho feels caught. “A wish for a blackening heart.” He says against Minho’s chest above the _thump, thump, thump_ even Minho hears ringing in his ears. 

“Yes.” Minho gasps out but he isn’t sure whether it’s an answer or a response from the way Jinwoo picks up the pace, an obscene slick sound echoing in the room. When Jinwoo pulls his pants completely down and hovers his mouth just above his weeping dick, Minho groans embarrassingly. But Jinwoo doesn’t take him in his mouth, merely huffing warm breaths against the head. “Hurry. C’mon. C’mon.” He urges and watches as Jinwoo’s gaze flickers up at him for a second, eyes looking huge and hungry against his pale face. The grin on his face is so wicked, so much the demon Jinwoo should be but Minho doesn’t dwell on it long when a hot mouth envelops his cock.

“Fuck.” He drawls out, hands burying themselves in Jinwoo’s hair and pulling. Jinwoo hums delightedly, vibrations running all the way from Minho’s dick to his curling toes, and he flicks his tongue over the head, pressing into the tip before slowly swallowing Minho whole. He swallows once, twice and Minho feels his throat contract and squeeze him so perfectly, smooth walls against the veins of his throbbing cock. A warm hand cups Minho’s balls, rolling them in the palm and Minho can’t help but thrust hard right into Jinwoo’s throat. The sudden movement makes Jinwoo cough and splutter and grip Minho’s thighs a little tighter but he takes it so, so well and Minho thrusts again a little harder, loving the way his eyes water, the way his throat constricts around him again and again. 

“Look at me.” He says gently and Jinwoo complies. God, what an obscene picture and Minho makes sure to imprint it into his memory and never let it fade. Jinwoo’s lips are bright pink and slick with his spit and Minho’s own pre-cum, stretched tightly around the base of his dick. Cheeks hollowed and teary eyed, Jinwoo looks only at him and Minho feels his chest tighten. When he thrusts just a little too hard, Jinwoo speeds up, head bobbing down and tongue running along the thick vein on the underside of Minho’s cock.

“Shit.” Minho swears, grip tightening on Jinwoo’s hair. “Yeah, just like that. So good, you’re so good. C’mon, just a little bit longer.” He says and Jinwoo works furiously now, sucking gently at Minho’s balls before licking a long stripe up to take back in his head, gaze never leaving Minho’s own.

“Jinwoo, Jinwoo, Jinwoo, _oh_.” Minho chants almost like a mad man and he feels drunk and trapped but it is amazing and he drowns in it completely. “Fuck, I’m gonna – I’m gonna – ” He stutters before he comes with a loud, obscene groan, watching as Jinwoo swallows it all. His dick throbs and softens against Jinwoo’s tongue and he sighs and melts into the sheets, sated. 

When Jinwoo crawls back up to look down at Minho again, a trail of his cum drips down his chin but Jinwoo wipes it with his fingers and pushes it back into his mouth. Minho shivers. God, he wants to kiss him so bad. Lips swollen and red and he is a picture of sin Minho calls his own. “Kiss me.” Minho says and Jinwoo laughs at him, sounding so free and bright. Warm wet lips run across the corner of his left eye and Minho huffs and pouts. “Not there.” He complains, making Jinwoo laugh a little louder before falling against him and lying on his chest to hear the rhythm of his heart. Minho wraps warm arms around his waist and pulls him tightly against him, revelling in the heat.

“Later.” Jinwoo murmurs. “Go to sleep.” He says and Minho listens, eyes fluttering shut.

  
  


A cold, icy winter in Seoul and Minho lies huddled up in bed with a nest of blankets, watching as Jinwoo fusses around his room with nothing more on than a loose shirt and thin track pants. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Minho asks, nose red but Jinwoo simply shakes his head and laughs at him.

“Demons don’t get cold.” He says with a sweet smile and like this, Minho could completely forget that this is a demon before him who owns him completely, who has him wrapped around his little finger and begging for even the smallest of touches. 

“If you’re so active, why don’t you make me something to eat instead of scamming off me all the time?” Minho grumbles into his blankets but even he can’t help the smile that tugs at him when Jinwoo spins his head around, looking appalled. 

“I don’t!” He cries out, dropping the shirt he was folding. Scoffing, Minho stares at him pointedly until he blushes shyly, scratching the back of his head. “Oh well… you don’t – you don’t seem to mind…” He murmurs because Minho’s never said anything about it before. And how could he, when Jinwoo gives him the company he craves, a piece of his past he thought he’d lost? “Anyway, do you really want me to make you something?” Jinwoo asks and Minho remembers then, the time they’d tried to bake and decorate a cake and how horrible that turned out to be.

“Never mind.” He says, scrunching up his nose. “Just pass me the tissues.” He catches it easily when Jinwoo clumsily throws them at him before going back to scavenging his room. 

“Your room is so messy.” Jinwoo complains, digging through his wardrobe and throwing out a stream of clothes behind him. His voice sounds muffled and he coughs when a plume of dust flies out in front of his face. “How do you even breathe?”

“Hey! Don’t mess with my stuff!” Minho says but Jinwoo is never one to really listen and he continues to dig around until Minho sees him pause over something. 

“Oh.” He breathes out before complete silence and Minho stumbles out of bed still wrapped in his sheets towards the wardrobe. 

“What?”

“Who’s – who’s this?” Jinwoo asks, almost reverently. When Minho peaks over his shoulder, he sees a familiar polaroid of him and a girl – so, so happy – and he blanches, snatches it from Jinwoo’s hands furiously.

“Don’t touch that!” He cries out. His blankets fall down to the floor with a thud, the cool air prickling at his skin but he holds the picture to his chest and stares down at Jinwoo coldly. 

At least Jinwoo looks ashamed. Still crouched on the ground, Jinwoo stares at the floorboards, boring holes into its surface. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He says and he looks so small that Minho feels the heat leave him as he flops back onto his bed. 

“It’s my sister.” He tells him and feels the bed dip when Jinwoo crawls towards him and looks down at him lovingly. Jinwoo reaches down to brush away Minho’s hair, tucking it behind his ear, and he leans into the touch.

“She’s lovely.” He says genuinely and Minho cups the hand against his face, smiling up at him.

“She was.”

  
  


Before all this, Minho loved to draw, to feel the pencil press against paper and his thoughts come to life. He stopped when he ran out of inspiration, when his eye began to throb and blur his vision. He starts again now when his mind is consumed by the same images over and over and he just has to get them out. 

It comes to him like a photo – the way his eyelashes curve just slightly, the height of his nose and the dimple in his cheek. He’s memorised it all and his pencil flies across paper, flicking hair into place and creating light out of shadows. The eyes are the most important – wide and round and always so bright and Minho makes sure they shine. 

“You’re amazing!” He hears Jinwoo say, peering down over his shoulder, probably woken by Minho’s desk lamp. But then he takes it all in, the rosy cheeks and cupid lips and he pauses. “Oh. Is that – is that me?” He stutters out.

“Yeah.” Minho says. Of course, it is nowhere close to the real thing but he is still proud of it – this creation born from his own hands he hasn’t used in an age. 

“I think you think of me a bit too highly.” Jinwoo replies quietly but Minho turns around and stretches out to grab Jinwoo gently by the neck and pull him close. 

“Not at all.” He whispers into his ear. “You’re bad at directions and you’re not very coordinated. Is that too highly for you?” He says and Jinwoo blinks blankly back at him before laughing. He flings his arms around Minho’s neck to kiss him deeply and falls into his lap. 

“No, that’s just right.” He grins and Minho feels inspired all over again.

  
  


There are times when Jinwoo seems like a different person. Less of the kind, shy guise and more of the black blood that runs through his veins. Minho knows in the end no matter how different Jinwoo may be, he is still and always will be a demon – cruel and vicious in ways Minho has yet to find out. But in the morning, when Minho wakes with Jinwoo sleeping still beside him, cuddled against his side, he looks so human. He breathes in and out and in and out in tandem with Minho’s beating heart. Bathed in the waking sun, Jinwoo makes Minho wonder if there’s a line between human and monster, if they aren’t the same thing in the end. He makes Minho wonder about himself and it makes him ache when Jinwoo stirs against his chest and tilts his head to press a kiss against his neck. 

“Good morning.” He says with a warm smile, looking up at Minho as if answers laid in the cut of his jaw or the curve of his cheeks and Minho can’t help but grin at him with all the love in all the worlds. 

Yes, it is a good morning, Minho thinks. Because Jinwoo may be a demon at his core but right now he is Minho’s heart and soul, the reason the mark on his eye hasn’t consumed him whole and he cradles him between his fingers and watches him flitter like starlight – one moment his, the other moment gone, never completely here or there. 

“Your breath stinks.” Minho says instead, scrunching up his nose before pushing Jinwoo onto his back and hovering above him. Jinwoo laughs gently.

“Yeah, well yours doesn’t smell that nice either.” He fires back, huffing a puff of air directly at the face above him and Minho scowls adorably. “Wanna kiss me now?” Jinwoo says a little cheeky but blushes bright red when Minho moves close enough for their noses to touch.

“Don’t I always?” Minho says, tilting his head and pressing his mouth against Jinwoo’s own. Jinwoo’s plush lips part for him immediately and Minho runs his tongue against that bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, holding it just there until he can feel it throb between his teeth as he nips at it gently. When Minho spits into the palm of his hands and moves to grasp at Jinwoo’s pale dick between them, Jinwoo gasps against the sheets and arches into him. 

“It’s morning.” He says but it’s not a protest and Minho smiles against his neck, licking and biting at his collarbone like a starved man and watching fascinatingly at the way the pale skin beneath him blooms red. 

“So what?” He says, one hand working languidly until Jinwoo’s cock hardens, long and slender and pink. He sucks in a rosy nipple and Jinwoo groans again, squirming beneath him when he pinches the other bud a little too hard. 

“M-Minho…” He stutters and Minho is in love with that sound, the way his name sounds so wrecked on Jinwoo’s lips early in the morning with just a couple kisses and simple touches. 

“Hush.” Minho whispers against his skin, blowing at a spit soaked nipple and watching it harden before him. Pulling it between his teeth, Minho bites until Jinwoo cries out and tries to pull away from him, face flushed. 

“Ouch.” He complains with a pout but Minho just laughs at him before reaching for the bottle of lube from the night before, tangled in the mess of sheets on the floor. He pops open the cap with his teeth and pores it on to his fingers. Jinwoo watches him for a moment before turning shy again and flipping over onto his stomach, burying his face into a pillow and pushing his hips up. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” Minho chuckles, flipping him over again and pressing a kiss at his temple. His face feels hot under his lips and Minho can hardly believe this is the demon from before who could ruin him with a simple handjob and wicked gaze. Oh, what they’ve become.

Minho swirls a slicked finger around Jinwoo’s puckered hole, gently prodding and probing, just teasing. He likes it when Jinwoo comes undone, when he can feel how Minho feels under his touch, ruined and desperate. When Jinwoo pushes his hips towards Minho’s hand with a broken _‘please’_ , Minho relents and pushes in a finger. “You’re greedy.” He says, watching the way Jinwoo sucks him in, wanting more. Jinwoo huffs at him but doesn’t say any more so Minho pushes in two, three fingers and watches as he squirms and grabs at his shoulders tightly. He finds a steady rhythm – in, out, in, out – and when he hits that spot that makes the other scream and press up against him, he knows they’re ready. Minho lubes up his own palm and strokes himself with a desperate touch, loving the way this demon looks at him almost hungrily. 

Minho guides his cock to that twitching hole and he just can’t wait anymore. He pushes in slowly and stares at the way Jinwoo just opens and swallows him up as if he belongs there. “Fuck.” Minho groans, loud and unabashed and Jinwoo echoes him, pulling him down for a kiss.

Jinwoo is so, so tight and so, so hot – still slick from the lube and Minho’s come from last night. He revels in the obscene, sloppy sound that consumes the room when he thrusts a little faster, balls hitting against Jinwoo’s red ass. “God, you’re so – you’re so fuckin’ good, you know that? So good for me, so perfect.” He stutters against pale skin, biting hard at his shoulders until Jinwoo cries out and a red imprint is left behind. He soothes it with his tongue, picking up the pace as hands grab onto him and changing his angle until he hits just the right spot that makes Jinwoo see stars.

“Minho!” Jinwoo cries out and it is a sound Minho worships. “Please.” He begs and he obliges, wraps a slick hand around Jinwoo’s dick and strokes in tandem to his thrusts. Like this, with Jinwoo looking at him so lovingly, Minho knows he won’t last long. Minho speeds up, lowering his head to lathe at an abused nipple, biting and sucking and still jerking Jinwoo off and oh, it’s too much, too much and Jinwoo shudders beneath him violently, calling out his name and spurting cum between them. His ass contracts around Minho sporadically and he thrusts through it until that familiar feeling makes its way to his gut and _god, he’s coming already_. He groans almost animalistic as he empties himself inside Jinwoo who lies still and spent against the sheets, chest heaving and oversensitive. 

When he catches his breath, he realises he’s fallen on top of Jinwoo who’s stroking his hair with gentle fingers, running his other hand up and down Minho’s spine. Like this, Minho has never felt more in love and he takes Jinwoo’s hand in his, presses reverent kisses against his palm.

  
  


Jinwoo’s a quiet person. Some days, he could go hours without talking at all. Minho knows and he understands it but there’s a difference between Jinwoo needing time to himself and Jinwoo staring at him pensively now as if counting the freckles on his face or measuring the curve of his nose. 

“What’s wrong?” Minho finally asks when he can’t take it any longer. Outside in the fresh air and normally, Jinwoo would be buzzing along with Minho, climbing trees and skipping rocks. But he just stares and Minho feels unnerved for the first time in a long time. 

“Hm? No, it’s nothing. I’m just thinking.” Jinwoo says, shaking his head but his lips curl as if wanting to say more and Minho waits as he watches him pick out his words carefully. “I’m scared.” He finally says.

“Of what?” Minho asks because he’s never really seen Jinwoo scared of anything – he’s a demon after all. Whatever it is, Minho’s sure he can handle it. He won’t let anything hurt him. 

The silence beats like a dull knife and Minho feels himself becoming anxious when Jinwoo licks his lips. When he stares up at Minho, he looks completely vulnerable. “Of you.” He says finally. 

“Oh.” Minho breathes out. His left eye flutters shut out of instinct and his hand comes up to cover it but Jinwoo reaches out immediately and pulls his hand away. 

“Not like that!” Jinwoo says, looking guilty. “It’s what you do to me. Just – I think I – ” He trails off, staring off into the distance as if he can’t look at Minho anymore. A blush blooms heavy on his cheeks and he fidgets with his hands, unable to say more. Minho tries to reach a hand out to stroke his cheek but Jinwoo flinches back and Minho drops it. 

“What? You’re acting strange.” He prompts worriedly. Jinwoo just shakes his head and smiles – tight-lipped and grim. 

“Nothing.” He says instead. Minho doesn’t believe him of course but he knows he is a private person and so he lets him be for now. When he reaches out to hold his hand, Jinwoo lets him and rests his head on his shoulder. 

It is a cold winter in Seoul and Minho presses up against Jinwoo, prays for his heart to keep beating just a little longer.

  
  


When Minho comes back from getting the groceries, he spots Jinwoo and another outside the door. He stops suddenly and drifts behind a corner just close enough so he can hear. Another demon, Minho observes. Three stripes on his uniform and Minho tenses, alert and ready. 

“Seungyoon I – ” Jinwoo says to the other before he’s cut off. Only a little taller than Jinwoo but this demon commands attention and he stands tall, a picture-perfect leader. 

“Don’t. Jinwoo, I can’t. Just please, do this quickly. I don’t want – I don’t want what happened to Seunghoon to happen to you if you don’t.” He replies back tersely and Jinwoo sags immediately, the air knocked out of him. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Jinwoo replies, gaze rooted to the ground. “I do.” Placated, Seungyoon places a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder before marching off. His eyes flicker momentarily to the corner and Minho jumps and hides behind it completely. Damn demons. He waits, counts to five before moving off. Jinwoo still stands outside, waiting for him and Minho flushes when he realises he hasn’t been discreet at all.

“Who’s that?” He asks, grip tightening around the plastic bag. He’s not jealous. He’s not. But knowing that Jinwoo has a life outside him when his whole world is contained in a shabby house with only Jinwoo by his side makes him feel small. 

“He’s my – ah… I dunno. Like, a friend but not. A supervisor?” He replies confusingly, scratching the side of his face. He sounds unsure and Minho wonders what he’s hiding.

“He’s high ranking. Three stripes.” Minho points out, a finger running up and down his collar for emphasis. Jinwoo’s eyes widen impossibly and he gapes like a fish. 

“Oh! You know?” 

Minho shrugs. “Kinda. I gotta know a bit, living in demon territory and all.” It’s a bit of a lie. He guessed, remembering the single stripe Jinwoo sometimes wears when he’s in uniform, and Jinwoo confirmed it. “What did he want?” 

Again, Jinwoo seems unsure and Minho feels nervous about what other lie he’ll conjure up. It makes him feel a little sick and his stomach churns violently. “He just… he just gave me a reminder. About my job.” He finally says and it is vague as always. 

Frustrated, Minho goes further than he normally would. “What’s your job?” He prods, sounding a little harsh but Jinwoo stays guarded and walks over to Minho to pull him inside their home with a warm touch. 

“I’m – I’m just the person who does the dirty work.” He says then turns to smile at him brightly. It feels different but Minho brushes it off so he can be happy for a little longer. “But I’ve been a bit distracted lately.” He continues and kisses Minho gently for emphasis. “Welcome home.” And Minho falls into him and kisses him roughly, his grip tight and bruising.

  
  


“You made me something to eat?” Minho asks one night when Jinwoo places a steaming bowl of samgyetang in front of him. It looks completely fine but Minho still looks at it worriedly because Jinwoo just can’t cook. The first time he tried was a massively failure and there haven’t been any second attempts till now.

“Yes.” Jinwoo says, a little tense. Minho can see the way his throat bobs up and down, the way his knuckles white from where he presses his hands into tight fists. “C’mon! It’s nice! I tried it. I worked hard on it while you were gone, you know.” He seems so nervous and Minho notices how jittery he’s been recently. All over this? 

Minho tries to smile but god, he still remembers the lingering taste from Jinwoo’s first attempt and he takes a sip with shaky hands. When it doesn’t burn his tongue, he lets himself breathe and his shoulders droop. It’s bland, but not bad. Well, not as bad as it could be. “It’s – it’s… nice.” He says but Minho’s always been easy to read. 

“You don’t like it.” Jinwoo states but he doesn’t look completely dejected and Minho takes that as a good sign.

“Well yes but – I can eat it. It’s tolerable.” 

Jinwoo flings his arms into the air before burying his head in his hands. “Great. What every demon wants to hear from their boyfriend. Your food is tolerable.” He spits out and Minho splutters, taking big gulps of soup.

“Hey! I’m eating it! Look! Yum.” He hums and even though he knows he doesn’t sound convincing, Jinwoo seems placated.

“Good.” He says. If his eyes never reach Minho, none of them say a word.

  
  


The chill of winter is deadly and when Minho catches the flu a couple days later, he is left bedridden and lying in his own cold sweat. Jinwoo stays by his side always, wrapping him up in blankets and brushing away the hair that sticks to his forehead but Minho is still so, so cold. He knows he looks a mess, far too pale and lips chapped. His left eye burns and he can’t keep his vision still. He thinks he sees three Jinwoo’s and they are all different. 

“Jinwoo…” He calls out and a familiar figure comes running, placing a hand against his burning forehead before clasping a shaky hand. 

“Sh.” He hushes. “I’m here.” He holds Minho tight and presses his lips against his temple but Minho still burns like a freezing fire and he groans when he feels his insides boil furiously. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” Jinwoo says again like a mantra, rocking him back and forth. “I’m here, you’ll be okay. Here, drink this.” A cool cup nudges against his lips and he opens to take it in but it is so bitter and he splutters it out in a heap. Jinwoo rushes to wipe him clean, muttering a string of apologies and Minho isn’t sure if it’s his vision making Jinwoo shake like that or his own fear. 

Minho reaches out to grab at his arm, palms sweaty. “Lie with me? I’m cold.” He asks feeling so much like the drowning man he once was. Jinwoo’s mouth is tight when he looks back at Minho but he pulls back the blankets and snuggles in beside him anyway.

“Okay.” He murmurs, face buried in the crook of Minho’s neck and a hand on his beating, slowing heart.

  
  


It’s when Minho coughs up blood and it is black that he realises. He looks up at Jinwoo who stares at him still and stoic despite the tears that stream down his face and Minho just knows. How blind he must be to only realise it now. 

“Oh.” He gasps out and this betrayal burns him far greater than any fallen star. His left eye is stinging and when he touches it with his hand he realises it’s blood that cries out of it. He could – Minho thinks he could end it all now. With his last dying breath he could kill them both and make him feel the fire Minho feels consuming him. But the anger makes it hard to control and instead he spits out the blood in his mouth at Jinwoo’s feet. 

Demon, Minho’s mind chants. He is a demon and Minho burns it into his skin until he can never forget what they’re capable of. 

Jinwoo shakes before him, a mess just as much as he is. Far too pale and skinny and Minho would have guessed it was Jinwoo who was sick. Not a complete lie, he thinks. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Jinwoo stumbles out, falling to his knees by Minho’s bed. His hand hovers over Minho’s own – too afraid to even touch him now – but it falls to the side immediately when Minho glares at him.

“Fuck off.” He manages to breathe out, laughing bitterly. He tries to push Jinwoo away but this time, Jinwoo grabs onto his hand and pulls it to his chest. It is a familiar touch and Minho is reminded of everything before this, of when he was miserable and, if only for a moment, of when Jinwoo made him happy. It calms him, if only for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry but I – but I – I have sisters too and you – and you – to them…” He trails off and Minho stares at Jinwoo’s broken face, takes in his words and suddenly, he feels it hit like a freight train. 

“Oh.” He gasps out again because this time, he remembers. He remembers being thirteen, young and unable to control what he was becoming, lashing out at anyone who tried to come near. He remembers two girls with familiar eyes and familiar smiles, how they tried to come closer, how they bled black blood when he – when he – 

Minho feels sick all over again and he sits up to cough blood over the side of the bed. It comes pouring out of him like an open tap. Jinwoo runs a hand up and down his back but the bitter taste lingers in his mouth and he tries to spit out more. When he hears Jinwoo sob a little louder, he stops and turns to him

“Did he make you do it? Your three-stripped boy?” He asks, not as angry as before but just – just hurt. 

Jinwoo pauses like he always does when he’s contemplating whether to lie to him. But there’s no point in lying to a dying man and this time, it is the truth. “All the demons – they – they’re scared of what you’ll become. I heard even those with six-stripes have been talking about you.” He says with bloodshot eyes and salty cheeks and Minho laughs again, all hollow and dark, watching Jinwoo flinch at the sound.

“Well I guess that’s an achievement.” He says. The whole world’s been at Minho’s feet since he was twelve until now. How pathetic. When he looks at Jinwoo this time though, it is gentle and familiar. “So did you ever love me?” He whispers even though a part of him doesn’t want to know. But the other part is louder and it desires closure and it aches for him. 

Jinwoo’s gaze shoots up at Minho immediately. “Of course I did! I still do, I love you so much. So much, Minho, so much.” He utters over and over again like a mantra. He holds onto Minho’s hand tightly and Minho feels his tears trickle on his skin, stinging and soothing at the same time. “Song Minho, I love you.” He says. _Song Minho, I love you_. Minho closes his eyes and breathes. 

“Hm. Okay.” He hums and he lets himself believe it. “Kiss me then.” He says and Jinwoo gives him this. Their lips are chapped and dry but it feels electric and Minho pushes up into it until Jinwoo pulls away. He smiles down at him, crying still, and strokes his cheek gently. Minho feels loved. 

“I – I’ll see you again, I know it.” Jinwoo tells him. “Humans – humans aren’t like demons. They get given second chances. You’re a good person, Minho. You’ve suffered so much. I’ll see you again in another life. I live forever, I’ll wait for your soul.” He says and Minho hums, eyes fluttering open and closed. Perhaps, he thinks. It’s a nice thought and Jinwoo kisses him again, gentler this time, beside his heated eye, on his nose, on his cheek and lingering just above his mouth. 

“Sleep.” He says, stroking Minho’s hair back with soft hands. Minho thinks he feels his tears falling onto him like rain after fire. “Your life was hard. You gave up so much, worked so hard. It’s time for you to rest. Just sleep.” He says and Minho listens, eyes fluttering shut.

  
  


Once, when Minho was young, he swallowed a fallen star. His sister lived on a few more years than predicted but his heart has been rotten since.


End file.
